


Painkiller

by wingedgorganzola



Series: Painkiller [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, Gay Sex, M/M, family values, murderclown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:37:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedgorganzola/pseuds/wingedgorganzola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illumi is the cause of, and solution to, nearly all of Killua's problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painkiller

Disclaimer: Regrettably, I don't own Hunter x Hunter. If I did, well.. It's probably for the best that I don't.

Trigger warnings include: man/man sex, dubious consent, Murderclown, character death, Zoldyck shenanigans, characters acting OOC. If any of that bothers you, best flee now.

This story would not be half what it is without the betas, Ria D'Arcy and OFSA. Glorious, wonderful people who have all my thanks.

  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Stars burst across Killua's vision as he fought to stay on his feet. He and Gon thought they could defeat Hisoka. Neither had counted on Illumi showing up. If his brother was here, Gon was in danger. Hisoka could wait, they could fight another day. He had to get Gon away from Illumi. Had to _escape._

 

But the elder Zoldyck was already closing in.

 

His world went white.

 

That's what it was, in the end. Slow and white. “ _Somewhere down the line,”_ he recalled Bisky's words, “ _you will leave Gon behind to die.”_ He had to see Gon. He had to know Gon was okay, because Gon was... Gon was his very dear friend.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

It was the constant, rhythmic beeping that woke him. The roar in his ears came second, then the blinding headache. Killua felt positively wretched. With too much effort, he opened his eyes, and the hospital room blearily came into view.

 

“Good, you're awake,” came a voice from his left. Hisoka? “Your brother will be happy; you've been out all week.”

 

All _week_? Killua couldn't have been gone that long. “What happened?” he whispered. Killua needed to know, he couldn't protect Gon otherwise. Where was Gon? Why weren't they together? _Where was Gon?_

 

Hisoka pulled a deck of cards from his pocket, shuffling them. “You lost, simple as that,” the man told him. “We fought, Illumi came. You went down pretty quickly.”

 

If anyone could put Killua out like that, it would be his brother. And if Illumi knocked him out for this long...

 

No, he wasn't going to think about that. Gon had to be alive, somehow. He _had_ to. “Tell me everything,” Killua demanded. “Tell me what happened and then tell me where Gon is. I have to find him!”

 

 

 

“...then you should already know Gon is dead,” Hisoka finished. “Such a waste of potential.”

 

He hadn't known that. He wished he didn't. “And Illumi?” the teen rasped. _It couldn't be real._ Gon was fine, he had to be. He had to be. It _couldn't_ be real. He couldn't be...

 

“He told me to look after you. Too busy with targets to do it himself.” The magician glanced at one hand to examine a fingernail before locking eyes with the teen again. “Don't you just hate that?”

 

Killua found he did not have the energy to hate. He just felt hollow. Gon was dead, what was the point of living?

 

Hisoka got up to leave. He paused in the doorway, looking back at him. “I have business with Feitan. Call me if you want a rematch.” And the magician was gone and Killua couldn't see past the wetness in his eyes.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

As the months passed by, Killua remembered restlessness. Staying in one place was too stifling, so he traveled. But then it was only loneliness.

 

When he was tired and sad and so, so alone, Killua went home to his father who would hold him and tell him what to do: he must take up killing again. He didn't really want to kill more, but he would. Killua would do it because he excelled at it and because doing the things he was taught made his father happy.

 

And so Killua killed and killed and killed. Until it stopped feeling real. Until _he_ stopped feeling real. Until he got sloppy on purpose and nearly lost an arm because the only thing that felt real anymore was _pain_ and Killua wanted so badly to be real and hurting and _alive._

 

Except he _could_ feel alive, Killua realized. Even without his dearest friend by his side. Killua knew someone who could hurt him, even if the teen gave it his all. Because that person could face Illumi, and Illumi was the indomitable steel that would not break or bend and would never ever fall. Hisoka could break him and he could feel real again and then maybe he could even die.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Killua rolled across the ground, coughing. He'd definitely broken some ribs. Already he could feel the blood rising to the back of his throat. This pain was sharp, piercing. Hisoka glared down at him and readied his next attack and Killua had never felt so alive as when he danced with death.

 

The magician allowed him to land a single punch before tossing him away like so much garbage. Killua didn't rise this time. He couldn't move past the pain. By the time he could force himself up again, Hisoka was long gone.

 

Killua's legs were broken. And so were one of his arms, both hands, and several ribs. He'd lost a lot of blood. He'd lived because Hisoka had gotten _bored_. The pain was almost unbearable.

 

He couldn't wait to do it again.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

He saw a _Nen_ healer to fix his body. Two weeks later, he was lunging at Hisoka from the trees. He lost just as brutally as before, but this time, Hisoka brought him to the healer himself. Upon leaving, he said, “This suicide routine is really turning me off. I don't need to kill another friend today.”

 

Killua smelled Feitan on him, then, the pungent miasma of corpses rolling off the magician in waves. Was Hisoka even _human?_

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

“ _I don't need to kill another friend today.”_

 

It had taken the snow-haired assassin a solid week to track down the illusive trickster. It took another three days after that to work up the courage to approach him. Hisoka had called him a friend, and Killua didn't want to lose that. He had too few friends to be driving them away.

 

“I want to apologize,” he told the magician. “I never considered how you might feel. And I'm sorry.”

 

He was apologizing for Feitan. And for himself. His body could take more abuse than that, a Zoldyck _endured._ Hisoka must have been disgusted with his weakness. Unbidden, Killua felt the heat start to rise to his cheeks. It would do him no good to be embarrassed now.

 

Hisoka sighed heavily, abandoning poise to sit spread-legged on the ground, and Killua moved to mirror him. Unable to take the silence, Killua spoke.

 

“You miss him, don't you?”

 

“Feitan? I suppose. We were very alike, he an I.” He idly twisted one stark red strand. “It used to be blue, you know,” he mused. The magician let the hair fall back before giving him a smile that showed all his teeth. “The blood stopped washing out.”

 

Killua peered closer, and the brilliant red gave way to little stripes of brown. Now that he looked, though, the brown seemed to be the only hair that was dry. He suppressed a shiver.

 

Hisoka caught it anyway. “Sometimes,” he drawled, “we'd take a target together. He was _magnificent.”_

 

By now, the young assassin had caught sight of the magician's excitement. It was _definitely_ time for a change in subject.

 

“You said you didn't want to kill another friend.”

 

“You're not worth killing, Killua. So if you're desperate to die, I won't help you.” Yellow eyes glimmered in the moonlight. “But I'm always here if you want to fight.”

 

Hisoka leaned over and kissed the assassin's forehead, then got up. “I'll see you another day, Killu,” he called musically. “I can't be late for date night.” Killua blushed, then scowled at himself. Stupid adults.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

It went on like that for a good year. Killua would ambush Hisoka, they'd spar, and Hisoka would wipe the floor with him. After that, they talked. After some months, the assassin broke down and bawled into Hisoka's chest because it hurt, being so alone and his dearest friend was _dead_ and Illumi just _left_ and Killua didn't know how to cope.

 

But Hisoka did. Hisoka's friends were dropping like flies. And Hisoka coped by killing. And if Hisoka killed the ones he loved, well, at least they died on his terms. Better to do it himself than let his prey fall to someone less appreciative.

 

Killua didn't like the magician's way of doing things. It was easier to just kill when he was paid to. But he found that the harder it was to kill a target, the less he thought about Gon. Slowly, achingly, Killua remembered how to live without him, and Hisoka began to open up about Illumi. The two became friends. Hisoka took a little longer to defeat him with every fight, and offered to bandage him when Killua bled out a little too quickly. To the young assassin, it was as unexpectedly tender as the kiss to the forehead Hisoka always gave him before leaving for the day.

 

It was after Killua's shocking discovery that Illumi had possessed a sense of humor that he realized the magician had gone the entire afternoon without kissing him. Pouting, he asked if he would get a kiss at all.

 

“Did you want me to kiss you, Killu?” came the whimsical whisper.

 

The teen nodded, feeling childish. “It feels nice.”

 

Hisoka only smirked. “Alright. But you have to close your eyes.”

 

Killua obeyed. It seemed a little silly, but some days he'd wanted nothing more than the man's affection. He was rather startled, however, when Hisoka kissed him full on the lips. He didn't know how to react. But by the time Killua had recovered enough to shout at him, the magician was gone. Damn him.

 

It felt nice.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

A few weeks later, Killua tracked him down again. He sprung from his hiding place to tackle the red-haired devil, latching onto the man's hips with his legs, one fist snarled in his hair, the other held tightly to his throat. Killua kissed him, hard and deep before Hisoka had a chance to fight. And the man kissed _back_ , full of aggressive fervor and their tongues warred for dominance. Strong, deft hands gripped Killua's hips and lifted him from the man's body, their kiss never breaking. The teen's vice-like grip loosened as he lost himself in Hisoka. Killua felt excited, elated. _Aroused_. And, quite abruptly, he found himself on the ground.

 

Hisoka shifted into a fighting stance, fists raised and smirk firmly in place. “That was _bold_ , Killu!”

 

So he wanted to spar instead? That was fine. It wasn't as if the assassin had spent all those days fantasizing about Hisoka's tantalizing kiss. Not at all. Rejection didn't sting a bit. Killua charged his _Nen_ and rushed the magician. Blue lighting arced off his body in brilliant, blinding bolts. It was time for pain. And Killua didn't know if the pain was his or Hisoka's and he didn't care because it was distracting and wonderful and it was _real._

 

Sometime later, Killua was panting on the forest floor, all fight gone. Hisoka spoke. “I really wasn't expecting you to kiss me like that, Killua.” No nicknames. So he was serious, then.

 

“Are you angry?” he asked.

 

“No,” the magician replied, “just surprised. You kiss like Illumi.”

 

Killua didn't know what to say to that. He chose not to mention that Illumi had taught him how to kiss in the first place, as well as all those other shameful, sinful things. But Hisoka wasn't angry. And Killua really, really wanted to kiss him again.

 

So he did. This time, the magician was startled by his slowness and lack of force. Killua took his time, slow and tender, until he pulled away with a smile. “Really? He was never soft like that with me.”

 

That feral grin went from amused to almost wantonly sexual. Tenacious topaz eyes roved over the increasingly bold teen beside him, before he finally took charge, pulling hard on Killua's hair, biting lips and wrestling his tongue into submission. Killua felt himself stiffen. Hisoka was in total control, and it _hurt_ and the pain was _incredible_ and Killua never wanted this to stop.

 

“If you want to kiss me like that again,” Hisoka told him, “I'm not going to stop here. I'll make you mine completely and I won't be the least bit gentle about it.” And with that, Hisoka left.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

All or nothing with Hisoka. The man radiated danger and Killua loved every bit of it. The magician could make him feel amazing and _alive_ and they could make _each other_ feel alive. On the other hand, he could count on his fingers the number of men who'd survived sex with Hisoka. It was not a high number.

 

But Killua couldn't even get hard unless it hurt. And who could show him agony better than the Hisoka?

 

A few months, he decided. He would wait a few months and if he still wanted a taste of Hisoka then, he would do it. There was no need to rush. Rushing made for poor decisions.

 

As it happened, eight days was all the time it took for Killua to lose patience and hunt him down. This wasn't rushing, he told himself. Rushing made for poor decisions. It was simply better, Killua decided, to see Hisoka now. He wasn't rushing.

 

Four minutes into their meeting, the corpse of Hisoka's latest fancy lay forgotten as Killua plied his tongue skillfully at the magician's stiffness, just the way Illumi taught him. Gentleness was for people who didn't murder for a living. Illumi had taught him that, too.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Killua attempted to ignore the steady drip-drip of blood from the seat of his pants. He was not successful. He was even less successful at ignoring the stinging pain from the gouges Hisoka had raked down his back. His legs felt so tired, so heavy. But sitting down was the _last_ thing Killua wanted to do. Hisoka had been truthful; it had not been a gentle affair.

 

But Killua had still thoroughly enjoyed himself. The magician had allowed a kiss, and had even let Killua lead. Eventually, though, they said their farewells. It was date night again and Hisoka was just going to up and leave for the next pretty face and probably kill that one too. Killua kicked a rock in frustration. The redhead was no good for him. He knew that. He knew that it was torture and his instincts were telling him to _run_ before he was caught up in that web of ecstasy and death because Killua was not as strong as Illumi and Illumi knew to keep his distance.

 

But it didn't stop the assassin from wanting him. He knew it wasn't love; Hisoka would never be Gon or Illumi or Father. Killua didn't need to be in love to love the pain in his body. If he focused on that, he didn't have to think about the rest of his shameful, sinful self.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Killua woke up alone on the forest floor. The first thing he noticed was the cold. It reminded him of those long, frigid nights when he'd left his bed to join Illumi, and beg for warmth. The man had been accommodating, usually. He'd held Killua close and whispered sweet nothings and taught him all those shameful, sinful ways to use his tongue. He _loved_ it. And now he could add Hisoka to the list of things he and Illumi had shared.

 

Normal people didn't think about those things. They didn't live to suffer and they didn't long for their horribly beautiful brother. And they certainly didn't develop an inability to find release without him. Or go out of their way to bed his old flames. Killua was broken. He was broken and disgusting and a shameful, sinful child. And the only one alive who loved him, who _could_ love him, was his horrible, beautiful brother.

 

He sat, thinking and wanting and hating, long into the afternoon. Killua didn't deserve love. And Hisoka didn't love him. And that was perfect.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

It was a few days later that the magician gave him a call. That in itself was odd, as Killua was, without exception, the instigator to all of their matches. Hisoka never _needed_ to call him, not when Killua would simply ambush him later in the week. But the man had _called._ He scrambled to answer.

 

“I thought I should let you know,” intoned that lilting, languid voice, “I won't be around for a few weeks. I'll be out of the country, you see. Our _darling_ Illumi has called for me.”

 

_Illumi._

 

Killua, frantic, demanded they go together. He had to see Illumi again. He _had_ to. He didn't know why.

 

No, he knew exactly why, though he was loathe to admit it. Killua wanted to hold his brother down, scream at him, demand to know why he just _left_ when he should have stayed to let Killua fight back. It wasn't fair. He couldn't lose his best friend and Illumi not be there to hold him, to tell him it was alright and taste that shameful, sinful mouth of his and Killua would belong, right where he always was and where he was always wanted. It wasn't fair.

 

It wasn't fair that Illumi killed Gon, and it wasn't fair that Killua could only think of how badly he missed his horrible, beautiful brother. He hated it. He hated Illumi. He loved Illumi. He never wanted to see his brother again. He needed to. Killua would follow Hisoka, because he'd never find his brother otherwise. And he'd never see Illumi if he never looked, and Illumi would never teach him any more off those shameful, sinful tricks Killua loved so much.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Illumi's eyes were an unfathomable ocean of black. They were two bottomless pits, liquid stars that sucked you in and never, ever let you out. Killua was caught in that piercing net, that captivating ensnarement. Illumi had his brother on his knees and dying to please him without ever moving or saying a word. Killua knew this feeling, it always came before their private lessons, where Killua learned any skill his brother thought he ought to. He never learned to hold his prey with only his eyes like that.

 

Killua remembered feeling trapped, feeling like his collar was too tight, like he couldn't breathe without his horrible, beautiful brother to permit it. He remembered that stifling, awful feeling, the blood rushing to his ears and everything out of focus but the painfully constricting pants choking down on his arousal. Killua remembered the craving, the yearning to please that horribly beautiful man in exchange for release, _just this one time, I swear,_ but it never, ever was and Killua kept coming back, day after day, begging his brother to relieve his shameful, sinful self.

 

And suddenly, Killua remembered _fear_ and that paralyzing hold and he just wanted it to stop, because if it didn't he'd get all hard and Hisoka was _right there_ and Illumi was watching with those unfathomable liquid stars and he couldn't let it happen now, not _now_ and not _right there,_ brother was watching.

 

But Illumi looked through him, like Killua was every bit the fragile glass he felt and Killua couldn't escape this, no, not this look. This was not the look Illumi wore when Killua was permitted to say no. He felt too hot and he couldn't focus on anything but that black gaze that went on forever until he _could_ , and then Killua could only watch in horror as his only other focus, his body, began to beg and plead for attention. It proclaimed to the two men watching that by his brother's gaze alone, he was wanting.

 

Hisoka's lips twisted upward in a smile that screamed predator. Illumi allowed mirth to grace those bottomless, inky eyes for just a moment before erasing it from existence. Killua had misbehaved, allowing himself to get excited too easily. He would need to be punished.

 

Hisoka moved first, slinking behind Killua to hold his arms in place. The teen tried to move, but the grip was too firm, claws sinking in and blood seeping through his shirt. Killua would not get away. Not unless they wanted him to. Illumi was next, stalking forward to kneel just inches in front of him.

 

“Kil,” his brother purred, eyes drawn to Killua's erection, “You know you aren't supposed to get these.” One slender, snakelike hand came to rest on his thigh, and Killua's pupils shrunk to pinpricks, dreading _hoping wanting_ what he knew would happen next. “There's something wrong with you,” Illumi whispered.

 

“Mm, our Kil gets excited for just anything, doesn't he?” Hisoka's voice was music, and it was soft and low and promised danger. “All you did was look at him.” The hand moved up, tortuously slow.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Hisoka pushed him roughly, and Killua fell to his knees before the two. He needed punishing. He did. Illumi would allow Hisoka to help, or he would've sent the man away. Their private lessons were always just that, private. When Killua misbehaved, Illumi handled it himself. Others were not permitted to interrupt. That meant Hisoka was part of the punishment. The anticipation of the pain to come chilled Killua to the bone. His body was going to break and he would bleed too much and he could feel his excitement growing and he _couldn't wait._

 

Faster than he could think, Illumi positioned himself behind him, while Hisoka took his place in front. A sudden pain in his skull made his eyes flutter closed and then he couldn't tell who's hands were closed tight around his throat or who's claws left hot vermilion furrows in his hips. When his vision cleared, Hisoka held one arm in his unshakable grip and Illumi had both legs. Killua wasn't getting out of this; he would be held there until the two decided he's suffered enough. But the furious strength of the magician's erection made him wonder if he wanted out at all.

 

He felt the sudden pressure of his brother's penetration, and then it was all he could think about. Illumi, the oldest and strongest of all his siblings. Illumi, who taught him to go for the throat. Illumi, who oozed brutality and force. Illumi, who taught him all those shameful, sinful things and let him show off when he wanted. Illumi, who murdered Killua's dearest friend and was too busy to fight Killua himself. Illumi, who allowed Hisoka to take part in his sexual torture.

 

Killua would suffer, and he would enjoy it. He would find that intoxicating, blissful release and he would forget all about how much it hurt. And he would crave it, more and more. He would beg his horrible, beautiful brother to let him taste it. And he would belong to Illumi again, loved by the only one who could love one such as him.

 

Killua's brother was a primal force, unyielding and uncompromising. Hisoka was the fire burning his insides, the heat intensifying to beautiful agony. Killua couldn't focus on anything but the painful euphoria they inflicted, weaving around eachother to scar his shameful, sinful body and he was struck by the realization that _they have done this before._ Feitan had not been the only man the magician took targets with.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Killua examined one wrist. It was definitely broken. And he was certain Hisoka's leg didn't have four joints before, but the man would survive. Probably. He had certainly taken worse. Illumi's skin was just as shredded as the scant remains of his clothing, and the mountain...

 

He could swear it had been taller than this. And that he had more blood. Yes, Killua was definitely supposed to have more blood. He was so dizzy. But Illumi was here, and Illumi would make sure he was safe. He was lucky to have such a man for his brother.

 

Killua let his eyes wander to that wretchedly beautiful person. He met Illumi's bottomless stare and he felt his beaten, battered body _respond_ and he _knew_. He couldn't stay away. Killua needed him, needed Illumi to love him and accept his shameful, sinful wants. Killua was broken.

 

But that was okay. His brother would keep him in line. He loved Killua so much, after all, to help him like this. The teen felt his erection straining against his pants. There was definitely something wrong with him. Illumi would help.

 

 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

AN: This was a blast to write, I can't wait to finish the rest of the series. Loved it? Tell me! I'll try to do more like this. Hated it? Tell me! I'll do my best to improve. Feedback is always appreciated, flames included.

 


End file.
